Ah Yu looked up at her, sunlight streaming through the blinds and falling on his face like scattered gold dust: "Because it's worth it."

Zhong Hua nodded gently beside him and reached out to close the tin box. The green ivy on the top of the cabinet hung down, and water droplets on its leaves rolled off and landed right on the tin box, like time gently knocking on the door.

The next morning, when Ah Yu pushed open the studio door, she saw Zhong Hua sitting in a chair by the window, holding two bags of bright yellow candy. The morning light stretched his shadow long, overlapping with Ah Yu's shadow at the doorway, like two sheets of drawing paper laid out side by side in the art studio during their high school years.

"Awake?" Zhong Hua looked up at him, his eyes shining brighter than the sunlight. "Just bought it, it's fresh."

Ah Yu walked over and sat down, taking one of the packets. The candy wrappers rustled, and this time the bright yellow was dazzlingly vibrant. He peeled one open and put it in his mouth; the sourness was still strong, but not as astringent as yesterday's.

"How is it?" Zhong Hua looked at his expression, a little nervous.

"It's alright," Ah Yu smiled, her mouth full of candy, "It's sweeter than the one you've been hiding for ten years."

Zhong Hua peeled one open, her brow furrowing at the sourness, but slowly a smile spread across her face. A breeze blew in from the window, carrying a hint of spring warmth, stirring the sketches on the table, and also stirring up memories between the two of them, memories hidden within the candy wrappers.

When Lin Wanqing arrived just in time, this was the scene she saw: two grown men sitting in the morning light, smiling like children with candy in their mouths, with bright yellow candy wrappers scattered on the table, like sunlight scattered all over the floor.

“I mean,” she put down her bag, her tone teasing, “are you two planning to turn your studio into a candy shop?”

Ah Yu tossed her a milk candy: "Here, it's sweet."

Zhong Hua took out the old bag of candy, carefully placed it in a glass jar, and put it in the most conspicuous spot in the snack cabinet. The faded wrapper stood out like a quiet punctuation mark among the new candy, marking those bittersweet years.

That afternoon, while Ah Yu was sorting through old photo albums, she came across a picture covered by candy wrappers. It was taken on the day of her high school graduation. She was standing at the entrance of the art studio, holding half a bag of bright yellow candy, while Zhong Hua stood next to her, his pockets bulging. On the back of the photo were some words in Zhong Hua's handwriting: "Once the sour ones are gone, everything else will be sweet."

Ah Yu touched the words and laughed. When she turned around, she saw Zhong Hua facing the computer screen, his fingers tapping on the keyboard, a smile he couldn't hide on his lips. Sunlight fell on his hair, like a layer of icing sugar.

It turns out that some flavors truly can transcend time, suddenly welling up in your heart on a quiet afternoon, tinged with a touch of sourness, but mostly with an unyielding sweetness. Like that old bag of candy in the studio, like the years they've shared, like the breeze outside the window right now, just the right amount of warmth.